Sea Bound
by DrunkSherlockedFangirl
Summary: When John and his crew are taken over by pirates, he expected them to be ruthless and cold-hearted. But he never expected to meet Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock has been taking over ship for years, but he had never felt anything for the crew before meeting John Watson.


The first time John had gotten roped into being first officer of the Gloria Scott, he had gotten bloody kidnapped by pirates, along with the the rest of the crew. As he sat in the dank, dark decks of their captors ship, he couldn't help but think of how he could have prevented this misfortunate.

It had been earlier that morning, the air had been thick with fog which made visibility next to nothing. The winds had been so strong that he had ordered the crew below deck. Being first officer and doctor, he had some power on board. The captain had been in low spirits within the last few weeks since leaving port, and he wasn't usually the man to have a negative outlook on things. But with the Gloria Scott heading to northern Africa in a bloody war, the journey seemed hopeless.

"Stamford, man the helm." The captain barked over the gusts.

Mike Stamford was the ship's second officer, and tended to be there right when you needed him. "Yes sir!" He called back as he rushed to take the wheel and relieve another soldier from his duty.

"Watson-" John walked over to where the captain was standing near the bow of the ship.

"Sir?"

He didn't speak for awhile. Just standing there motionless, watching the waves ram against the hull. "I have a feeling we won't reach the desert in one piece John." The captain turned to him, a look of worry on his face that chilled John's blood. He couldn't even register that he had called him by his first name. "I- I just want to know that if anything happens-" he sighed. "You'll be there for the crew."

"Sir?" John hadn't a clue what to say besides that.

The captain looked him in the eye before smiling. "I'm just expressing my worry. It's only a gut feeling, and I rarely get those. Probably just that blasted soup." He chuckled. "I'll have to have a little word with the cook."

John remained speechless. He had never seen the captain like this before. "You know, I'd always figured I'd become someone important in the military. But not this. Not a captain of a ship in her majesties navy." He sighed quietly while gazing out at the churning black water below. "Did you expect to be here Watson?"

"No sir-" John said without hesitation, and it was the truth. He was supposed to be back in London, at St. Bart's hospital, diagnosing people. Not here on a ship heading to combat. He wasn't even officially trained to fight. He had received some measly training from a few of the officers before the Gloria Scott had left port and had started sailing toward war. It was minuscule training at best, but it was better than nothing, especially compared to what he would have had before he was drafted: just a license in medicine, able to diagnose patients at will. A boring private life with no friends, and a family he wouldn't bother to communicate with anyway.

"Something troubling you Watson?" He blinked and looked up at the captain.

"No sir, sorry."

"Oh that's alright. I used to do the same, was always drifting off, without a care in the world." He sighed. "So do you have a girl back home?"

"What?" "Well I would imagine that the girls would be falling over themselves trying to chase after you. A doctor, a soldier. There's not much else that could make you a better catch for the ladies,"

"Oh," John cleared his throat. "Yeah, I suppose-"

"So do you?"

"No, no I don't." He said a touch too quickly. The captain looked at him a moment before looking back at the churning waters below.

"I imagine you'll probably want to get some sleep Watson, we'll be landing tomorrow with any luck."

"Well, actually, I haven't been sleeping well sir," he glanced back at Stamford. "So I wouldn't mind actually taking over-"

"By all means. Stamford!" He bellowed over the rush of the wind. "Go bellow! Get some rest!"

"Yes sir!" The man at the helm called back.

"I'll see you in the morning Watson."

"Sir-" John said before he could stop himself. "What you said before about not reaching-" he stopped himself. "You didn't actually mean that did you?"

The captain paused a moment before opening his mouth to speak. "No, I-" he sighed. "I didn't mean to to frighten you John, just expressing some concern of mine. I thought I would let you know rather than keep you in the dark."

John nodded. "Alright, thank you."

"Is that all?"

"Yes sir-"

"Then goodnight,"

"Goodnight sir," John watched as the captain walked off in the direction of his quarters before he took the helm from Stamford. The second officer left with a slight nod of his head before John was completely alone.

§

He should have paid closer attention, as they sailed through the night with the whipping winds and raging waves. He should have white knuckled the wheel instead of dozing off, but off course he didn't. That was his first big mistake.

The next was letting his bloody guard down. Before he knew what hit him, he had a gag wrapping over his mouth, his eyes snapping open as he tried to fend off the attacker, but more arms encircled his as they bound his wrists and ankles. He couldn't even cry out to warn his crew. He saw men with well worn clothes, knives and swords hanging from their belts, and earrings dangling from every ear. Pirates.

Pirates were taking over his ship.

Hot boiling rage coursed through John's body, causing him to rip himself from the men who were holding him. He launched himself down the deck stairs that led to the living decks below, but before he could even place a hand on the hatch, a hand yanked him backward by the collar of his jacket. He made a noise in the back of his throat as he grabbed the hand and twisted around, bending his attacker so they were in reversed positions. A few of the other pirates surged forward, but a clear sharp whistle coming from behind John caused them to stop, though they looked like they still wanted to beat his face in.

He took a look around, not letting go of the man he still held. No one spoke for awhile as John who was much smaller than the other men around him continued to pin the arm behind the man's back. He realized he was breathing heavily, but he didn't turn around to face whoever had caused them to stop. He obviously held some power if he could do that.

"A shame we can't compromise-" said a deep velvety voice behind John. He had a feeling it was the same man who had whistled.

"Yeah, a real shame," John said with a hint of anger. The tone of voice he was taking on wouldn't help the situation but he didn't honestly care at this point. These pirates had invaded his ship and they were going to pay.

The man he was still pinning glanced back and a smile crept onto his twisted face. "You better look back Brit-" he said to him with a toothless grin.

John narrowed his eyes at him making it clear that if he tried to twist out of his grip he would rip his arm out of its socket. He stole a quick glance back and his resolve broke completely at what he saw.

The captain was on his knees, his face bloody withs cuts and his hat flattened in front of him. He looked like he was trying to not cringe but anyone could tell he was clearly in pain.

"Captain-" he said softly.

"My man for yours," the deep voice said. John didn't take his eyes off the captain, but he nodded after a while and released the man he was pinning. "Ah, I'm glad we could reach that bargain. Now for our side of the deal-"

John saw out of his peripheral vision that the man who had whistled gestured for one of the pirates forward. The man stepped up to the captain and in one swift move, the captain's head was struck clean off.

"No!" John screamed and took a leap forward but the man he had pinned before tackled him from behind and sent them both sprawling on the deck of the Gloria Scott. His shoulder dug into the wooden deck below, and he cried out in pain. He felt tears running down his cheeks but he could barely feel them over the throbbing throughout his chest.

His captain was dead. Dead, and never coming back. Which now made him in control, but pinned to the deck he was as good as the boards below him.

Someone above him tisked disapprovingly. "A shame we couldn't come to terms. He seemed like a nice old chap."

John gritted his teeth, looking up blearily to the man. "You good for nothing pirate, I swear if I ever get out of this I'll have the king-"

"Now now-" Said the man, dismissing the man pinning John. "I don't think that will be happening, seeing that you're under my control." The man paused. "Lestrade, get him to his feet-"

"Yes captain-" the man pinning John before said with an elated tone. "Up now Brit," he said, swiftly yanking John up from his feet.

Looking to his right, John saw the rest of his crew being shackled and thrown down into the holding cells below deck. "You have no right to use our own ship to contain us-" John said, surprised to hear his own voice.

"I, by all means have the right." The man said, stepping before John. John didn't look up.

"Why are you doing this?" He heard the man smile. "I'm a pirate. We do little less."

Letting out a deep breath, John managed to raise his head to see the man. What he saw took his breath away.

A pale, tall figure stood before him, high black buckled boots covering his feet, loose, flowing pants ripped at the bottom. His deep purple shirt was buttoned only halfway up his chest, leaving part of him bare. The coat the went over his shirt was a black color, the collar up, unbuttoned.

John managed to look up further and saw a huge pirate hat with a red feather adorning from it top the man's head. His eyes found their way the pirate's face, that included sharp cheekbones, pale skin, wide, smooth lips that had that healthy light pink color. His hair was dark and curly, longer than what was necessary, but at the same time fitting. John found his eyes locking on his, which were the color of a stormy sea, green, blue, and a color John couldn't quite put his finger on.

Saying that this man was gorgeous was an understatement.

John swallowed quickly, trying to forget that last thought. The man's expression flashed with something strange but John couldn't tell what.

"George put him below with the others. In his own cell-" the man said.

"It's Greg," the man holding John mumbled as he shoved him toward the stairs leading bellow.

"I should at least have the courtesy of knowing who is capturing me an my crew," John blurted as he yanked him head to face the man.

The pirate smiled, white teeth forming a beautiful grin. "The name's Sherlock Holmes-"


End file.
